


The Mongoose Effect

by DemonicFruitcake



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Cannibalism, F/M, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-24 01:16:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1586321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonicFruitcake/pseuds/DemonicFruitcake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham dies, and wakes up days before he is supposed to meet Hannibal Lecter for the first time...knowing that he is the Ripper and that he killed Alana and Abigail and so many others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mongoose Effect

**Author's Note:**

> The Mongoose Effect.  
> Well hello and welcome to a short series that may or may not have slash in it (will put it in if I can manage it) first Hannibal fic, and it will be on what would Will do differently the second time round kind of fic. Honestly I am only writing this because I hope to inspire other timeskip fics because I enjoy reading more than I do writing...

Will Graham woke up. This was in itself surprising as the last thing he remembered was Hannibal leaning over him with one of his scalpels that he supposedly kept for sharpening his drawing pencils. It had been a bad idea to confront him in the living room. Probably still better than the kitchen, but still a bad idea to confront the cannibal psychopath on his home turf. ‘Stupid,’ thought Will, ‘really stupid.’ Will hoped he was tasteless. It would serve Hannibal right if he tasted like four day old chicken, not even fit for soup. With this thought in mind, he sat up and was surprised to see he was in his own bed at home rather than in Hannibal’s basement or kitchen, sitting in sweaty sheets in his boxers and t-shirt. What was more surprising was when he looked at the clock, the time and date was wrong by three months. According to the date, it was days before he met Hannibal for the first time.  
‘What happened?’ Will wondered, ‘am I hallucinating?’ Right on cue, as it summoned by the thought of hallucinating alone, Will heard the steady clomp on the stag outside his door, heard it huffing steady moist filled breaths into its powerful lungs.  
‘What did I do?’ he wondered aloud to it, not really expecting an answer. But he got one:  
‘Isn’t it obvious?’ Under the stress of about to meet your maker, you changed things, Will, you gave yourself and Alana and Abigail and Beverly and everyone else Hannibal killed between the day he met you and the day you died a second chance...This is the beginning of the end, the point you chose as where it all began to unravel...This is your design. The question is what are you going to do with it?’  
Will stared. In all his hallucinations the great feathered stag had never spoken. His voice sounded strange, guttural, but solemn. A theory popped into Will’s head, a terrible suspicion.  
‘What are you?’  
‘I am your psyche, your empathy, your power, your suspicions, your fears, your familiar your daemon. I am many things Will, not all of them explainable. I have always been here for you in time of peril, usually trying to warn you, but you did not understand me when I tried to speak with you, or we were interrupted. But here we are, what would you have us do Will? We can save those that need saving, or we can leave without ever having to meet Hannibal. Even leaving without meeting you may save those we care about. Perhaps we could even kill him or catch him in the act. But this must be your design.’ The stag’s head loomed over the seated Will Graham, his great muzzle so close that Will could feel the tips of the shaggy pelt tickle the top of his head and ears. He closed his eyes, wondered if he’d snapped then shrugged his shoulders. If this truly was a second chance through some freak ability, he wasn’t about to waste it. Especially as he wasn’t sure he’d be able to replicate it again. He didn’t even know how he did it the first time. Everything between the scalpel and waking up was a blank nothingness. He looked up to ask the stag how he’d done it only to find still air tainted with the smell of damp dog. 

‘Well,...shit.’ Will spoke to the empty air.


End file.
